


holding in the past for a time

by l_grace_b



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, I'm pretty sure, Nicole's kind of going through it at the moment, No spoilers for S3, Set between Season 2 and 3, tw for anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 18:01:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15539871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/l_grace_b/pseuds/l_grace_b
Summary: "Are the nightmares back?""Yeah."...For weeks, Nicole has had trouble sleeping.





	holding in the past for a time

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Message to Bears "Almost Faded". 
> 
>  
> 
> All mistakes are my own.

_Roll over._

_Hands behind head._

_Adjust pillow._

_Pull quilt up._

_Stick foot outside of quilt._

_One pillow._

_No, two pillows._

_Count sheep._

_The chorus of that awful pop tune Waverly's had on repeat for the last month._

_Twisting the ring on her middle finger round and around and around and…_

_A sudden awareness of her heart beating._

 

Nicole is restless.

She's settled on her back, hands behind her head, staring at the ceiling. Her eyes trace the knotted beams spanning the ceiling.

She turns her head to the side, catching the green glow of the digital numbers on her alarm clock. 3:27 am.

Three minutes since she last looked.

Four and a half hours since she climbed into bed.

Two and a half more hours until it reminds her that she's been awake all night. Again.

She slides out of bed.

She winces when she hears Waverly rustle the sheets. She glances over her shoulder, finding Waverly reaching out in her sleep finding in Nicole's place nothing but warm sheets. Even in the darkened bedroom, Nicole can make out a slight pout on Waverly's soft features.

She feels pulled back to bed--it's the first time in almost two weeks they've been able to spend the night together.

Nicole slips out of her bedroom, pulling the door closed behind her.

She wanders down into the kitchen, without even turning the light on. The moon is bright enough that it nearly lights the whole first floor of her small house. Almost two years living here, she knows where everything is. She mindlessly reaches into the cupboard for a mug and sets a kettle of water to boil.

 

_(She doesn't know if it'll even help, but it's something to do.)_

 

The water boils quickly--benefits of an old gas stove--and sets her mug of tea to steep. She sits down at her humble kitchen table, the steam of the tea curling upward, silvery in the moonlight.

She hears a soft groan of wood floors behind her. It's a sound she's accustomed to--especially since the insomnia--and therefore isn't surprised when a large, fluffy mass leaps up onto the table beside her.

"Hey, old girl."

Nicole slides a hand along the length of the cat as she settles down in front of her. Calamity Jane circles back and rubs her head against her owner’s palm.

"Can't sleep, either?"

Calamity Jane sits in front of Nicole, her tail flicking back and forth, amber eyes meet brown eyes. Nicole reaches up to scratch behind her ears. Calamity Jane flops onto her side, exposing her belly to Nicole. She rubs her hand along the cat’s lanky body, feeling the hum of content purrs. Not long after, Calamity Jane's eyes ease close.

"At least there's someone getting some sleep around here."

Calamity Jane flexes her paws in response.

This has been her routine for the nights when she can't sleep but can't bring herself to lay in bed for hours with Waverly beside her.

This is how it was after she and Shae called it quits, the first few weeks after moving to Purgatory. Nights sitting up alone, undrunk cups of tea littering her coffee table. It's why she got a cat in the first place, someone to keep her company on the nights when her mind is too loud and the world is too quiet.

* * *

Over a year on the police force meant she knew her routine. Randy Nedley was nothing if not consistent. Three weeks on day shift. Three days off. Two weeks on night shifts. Three days off.

The first night coming off of night shifts was usually the worst. She'd nap during the day so she wouldn't fall over from exhaustion, but would try to ease back into sleeping in the evening. She wouldn't fall asleep until two or three, then would still make herself roll out of bed at six-fifteen to keep her regular sleep schedule for day shifts. Still, she never was one to have trouble sleeping when she absolutely needed to.

Sure, she'd gotten significantly less sleep ever since she started hanging with the Earps. There always seemed to be an extra shot of adrenaline coursing through her that she never could quite kick.

In the last few weeks alone she could count on one hand the times she managed to sleep all the way through the night.

Tonight is night three in a row _just this week_ of no sleep.

And not just because she _couldn't_ fall asleep.

She didn't want to.

Every time she thought she was drifting, nightmares came flooding in.

Mictian is back in full force. Taunting. Evil. No reprieve for her sweet Waverly.

_Not good enough._

Dragged from her patrol car in the middle of the day by the Jack of Knives, his breath hot and acrid against her cheek just before everything went black.

_The wrong kind…you're the wrong kind._

And now there's a new name… _Bulshar_ …it keeps running through her head, sneaking in when she thinks she's safe, even during the day when the light can chase away the nightmares. It makes her stomach churn and her chest tighten and her mouth go dry. It's a name that's haunted her since the day they sent baby Alice away.

And then the occasional pedestrian, job-related nightmares creep in there, too, just to remind her that she still needs to be a good cop, that she still has to protect the town that she vowed to serve.

Or, at least try to.

If she doesn't screw anything up.

Forgetting the bullet-proof vest while walking into a hostage situation. Chasing a speeder down Main Street and always being just out of reach. Nedley assigning her to desk duty and paperwork for the rest of her days.

Nedley calling her a terrible deputy, the worst he's ever seen. Kicking her off the force.

 

_(Those in particular started after they came back from the Black Badge warehouse.)_

 

She'd wake up in a cold sweat, pulse roaring in her ears, chest heaving. The room, black and inky, swimming around her until her eyes adjusted to her surroundings. She'd run a shaking hand through her hair, trying to steady her breathing, trapping a sob that was always bubbling in her throat and threatening to escape.

She couldn’t bear to wake up Waverly. 

But on the nights when Waverly would be in the middle of her own nightmares and start thrashing or whimpering, her breathing labored and shallow, Nicole would be there, already awake, ready to shine the light under the bed and chase the monsters away. She couldn't bear to let Waverly suffer alone in the dark.

 

_(She could always chase Waverly's monsters away. But could never manage to chase her own away.)_

_(The first few weeks after they sent Alice away were the worst.)_

 

She still isn't sure which nightmare is worse.

* * *

She's been tired for the last three weeks. When she's tired at work, she can't do her job as well as she knows she can. Reflexes aren't quick enough. Her desk isn't as organized as it usually is. She misplaces forms.

 

_(She really hoped Nedley wasn't starting to notice.)_

 

She's starting to feel it in her body, a hum of sleeplessness that makes her muscles ache. She always has a headache that she tries to chase away with copious amounts of coffee.

 

_(Of course, it neither cures the headache or the tiredness. It just makes her jittery. She quit cold turkey a week ago.)_

 

When Waverly would ask how she slept, she'd lie, hitching her voice a little higher than normal to hide the sleep debt clouding her eyes.

Emotions that are often easy to squash are constantly at the surface.

Normally cool-headed and steady, she can feel herself developing a temper.

She gets angry with Wynonna more, too, which breaks her heart. Especially since last week she returned from God-knows-where, and she has a vengeance of a…

Of a mama bear forcibly separated from her cub.

 

_(How can you possibly be mad at someone who just lost a piece of themselves?)_

 

She snaps at Dolls. Jeremy. Doc.

 

_Because they're all angry and tired._

* * *

It's the nightmares that wake her, but the guilt that keeps her up.

The guilt of knowing that, because she's not sleeping, she can't do her job as well as she knows she can. How she's afraid to go on patrol or sit on speed-trap duty because she knows how badly lack of sleep can impede driving and reaction time and she doesn't think she could forgive herself if something bad happened because of something stupid like not getting the recommended seven-and-a-half hours of sleep.

 

_(God dammit, why can't she sleep.)_

 

The guilt of finally getting to sleep with Waverly after a few weeks of night shifts and their sleep schedules are flipped and not being able to enjoy sleeping next to her, to enjoy being this close to her.

 

_(They never missed any possible chance to fall asleep next to each other.)_

 

Being near Waverly isn't helping her at all, not the way that it should.

She wants to hold her, bury her face into the back of her neck, to _breathe_ her, to fill up every one of her senses with her…but her mind keeps her from enjoying the close proximity, her thoughts crashing together until they crowd her skull and her throat and chest and filling her lungs so she can't even breathe.

But it's so much worse when she's alone.

When Nicole's alone, sleeping off a night shift ( _trying_ to sleep off a night shift), or when Waverly is still out with Wynonna and the boys, somewhere, trying to hunt down a demon or two, and it's just her and her nightmares.

When she's not there, when Nicole has to try and sleep through the day, she ends up pacing around her room or goes for a run just to make herself exhausted to the point of passing out in hopes that the nightmares are even too tired to come calling.

And yet they still come. And she is still alone.

Waverly is her anchor, her tether back to reality. She can reach out and touch her and feel her strong, steady heart beating and feel her breath rustle her hair when she's tucked into Nicole's side.

 

_How can she possibly have nightmares when she's so close to the light?_

* * *

She wonders if the nightmares mean anything, if they're an omen, a sign.

 

_(A sign that she's not where she's meant to be.)_

 

She wonders if she really belongs here, if it would be better--for everyone--if she just packed up and left the Ghost River Triangle.

Pick up a job in a big city, where she can blend in and work through the ranks. Start out as a constable or detective. She'd get more action. Solve more cases. Help more people.

 

_(She did that with Shae, when things got tough. They ran as far away from each other as they could._

_But she and Shae were never meant to be together. They were two cannonballs, powerful and ambitious, good for a one-time explosion that left a hole that, no matter how hard they tried, they could never fill.)_

 

But then the guilt always creeps back in. Leaving Nedley in the lurch, having to recruit and train another deputy after he worked so hard to get her to Purgatory. Leaving Wynonna to fight demons on her own after being trusted to get her daughter to safety.

 

_(Leaving Waverly.)_

_(No, she'd take Waverly with her.)_

 

Except, really, she could never drag Waverly away from this place.

 

_Not until it's all over._

* * *

She's not sure how long she's been sitting at her kitchen table--her tea's steeped almost to the point of bitterness and the comforting steam is no longer rising to greet her--when she hears the floorboards creak behind her again. Thinking it's Calamity Jane bounding up the stairs to go commandeer her spot in the bed, she thinks nothing of it until a lamp flicks on behind her.

"Nicole?"

 

_Shit._

 

Nicole whips her head around to see Waverly standing at the base of the stairs, one of the quilts draped over her shoulders.

"Hey…" She stands up a little too quickly and gets a headrush--or it's probably the lack of sleep--and meets Waverly in the living room, hoping she didn't see her sway and almost lose her footing. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

Waverly shrugs as she makes her way over to the couch. "Bed felt empty." She plops onto one end--her usual spot when they have a quiet moment to themselves to watch bad movies and eat an obscene amount of takeout--folding her legs beneath her.

Nicole groans in protest. "Go back to bed, Waves. It's late." She perches on the back of the couch.

"Are you going to come back to bed?" Waverly asks her.

"Of course. I'm just grabbing a glass of water."

"Lukewarm, chamomile-flavored water?" Waverly raises an eyebrow at the mug in Nicole's hand.

Nicole's shoulders slump. She runs a thumb over the decal emblazoned on the side--a souvenir from the academy. Her thumb catches a snag in the enamel and she resists the urge to pick at it.

Waverly readjusts the quilt around her, letting it fall around her waist. She runs her fingers over the patchwork designs. "You haven't been sleeping well for weeks. I can tell."

Nicole shakes her head. "'s nothing, Waves. I'm just readjusting to my sleep schedule after night shifts."

"That takes you two days, not two weeks.

Nicole winces. "No, really. I'm fine, Waverly." She keeps her voice steady.

"You sure?"

"Waves. Really. It's nothing. Just…feeling a little restless. Go back to bed. I'll be up in a little bit."

But Waverly doesn't move and Nicole begins to worry that she's given something away. Waverly props her elbow on the back of the couch, leaning over the back in the hopes of catching Nicole's eye.

"You've got to give me something here, Nicole. Otherwise, I'm thinking you're part of some night-time guerilla gardening squad and you're leaving me out of all the fun."

Nicole stares into her mug, the corner of her mouth quirking upward at her girlfriend's attempt at levity.

But it vanishes the moment Waverly stops talking, and the air is still thick between them. Nicole silently wills Waverly back upstairs, back into their warm bed, under all five blankets.

 

_This wasn't supposed to happen. Waverly was supposed to stay asleep. She wasn't supposed to see her like this._

 

"Talk to me, Nicole. Please."

"There's nothing to talk about, Waves," Nicole snaps at her. She feels something rising in her chest--frustration, anger, but it might just be the exhaustion talking because she doesn't want to--no, can't--talk to Waverly about the storms and the monsters…

"Is it something to do with me, with us?"

And the anger dissipates immediately and remorse comes flooding in. Nicole's head snaps up, only to find Waverly's gaze cast downward, focused on the linen fabric of Nicole’s couch.

"Because, I know we talked about everything, but if there's something you're still mad at me about--"

"No," Nicole says, her hand landing on Waverly's elbow. "Never you. Or us. That…other stuff is done. We're moving forward. Right?"

"Right." Waverly lays her other hand on top of Nicole's. Her hands are warm. She wishes that warmth would spread through her entire body.

 

_Maybe it takes light and warmth to chase the monsters away._

 

"So…what's going on?"

Nicole runs a hand through her hair. She can feel it tickling the back of her neck and it unsettles her because suddenly anything laying against her skin feels _wrong_. She's starting to feel restless again. She slides off the back of the couch and shuffles around the end table and settles cross-legged on the opposite end, facing Waverly.

"You don't want to know," Nicole murmurs, staring into her lap.

"Yeah, I do."

Nicole chances a look at her girlfriend. Even in the half-light of the moon, she sees the little worry line spanning her forehead. Her eyes are still heavy with sleep, strands of hair falling out of the messy bun perched on top of her head. A sliver of moonlight bounces off of Waverly's bare shoulders.

 

_God, she looks beautiful._

 

"Nicole…"

Waverly lays a hand on Nicole's leg.

Being a cop, Nicole has perfected the neutral face, never letting it betray even an inkling of emotion. She was good at reading people, but even better at being unreadable when she needed to be.

Except when it came to Waverly.

"Are the nightmares back?"

The more time they spend together, the better Waverly gets at reading her. She can tell something's off by the flicker of an eye, the tensing of her jaw, by her running her thumb over her ring.

But she never pushes because even though Waverly is stubborn, Waverly is also kind and Waverly knows her better than anyone has ever before.

Her brave, unwavering Waverly.

Her Waverly that she needs to let in, that she needs to trust with the nightmares.

Especially when Waverly's already trusted her with hers.

 

_How can she let her in without scaring her away?_

 

Nicole finally nods. "Yeah. The nightmares are back."

Waverly quirks her head to the side. "Do you want to tell me about it? About whatever's keeping you up?"

 

_At this point, it'd be easier to tell her what isn’t keeping her up._

 

She thinks about breaking everything open then and there.

She considers telling her that she doesn't think she has what it takes to become sheriff of Purgatory even though, yes, Lord willing, she's not going to be sheriff _tomorrow_ , but with only a handful of full-time officers plus their partnership with Black Badge…it's a _lot_.

She considers telling Waverly about how she still worries about double-checking the locks at night. How a chill goes down her spine whenever there's a knock at her front door.

Her body stiffens as thoughts come in flashes and spurts and she can't keep up and she shifts position on the couch as if it'll shift the thoughts away from her. Her heart starts racing and her palms start to sweat and she pulls her hand away from Waverly and has to set her mug down on the floor before she spills her tea all over the couch or she drops her mug or--

"Nicole?"

She didn't realize how close she was to crying until she tries to take a breath and her chest nearly bursts and tears come hot and heavy before she can stop them. Waverly is there in an instant, wiping them from her cheeks, gathering Nicole in her arms as Nicole drops her head to Waverly's shoulder, her arms wrapping around Waverly's waist. Waverly is there, a hand rubbing gentle circles on her back, a hand at the back of her neck, fingers knotted in her hair.

 

_Her Waverly, holding her together as she's dissolving into nothing._

_Waverly is her anchor._

 

They sit there, holding each other, until Nicole's no longer gasping for air and the world has stopped spinning out of control. Her body is still buzzing and her ears are still ringing, but something cuts through the din…

"Hey. It's okay. You're okay…"

 

_Everything stills. Everything quiets._

_Light can chase the monsters away._

 

Nicole leans back, embarrassed and ashamed because she's supposed to be the rock _and a rock should never crumble._

"God, I'm so sorry, Waverly…"

Waverly brushes her tears away, cupping Nicole's face in her hands. "Don't you dare apologize, Nicole Haught." She drops her hands and grasps Nicole's, intertwining their fingers.

 

_She tightens the knot. She can't let go of her anchor._

 

"Just…Why didn't you tell me?"

Nicole sniffs and wipes her nose on her t-shirt. "I don't think I even know what's wrong," she says, her voice thick. "I just…have a lot on my mind, is all."

"I think we all do."

"Then, you don't need all this…craziness." Nicole gestures vaguely to the side of her head. "I can't put that on your plate right now, Waves."

"I guess not…" Waverly says resignedly. Her hands retreat back into her lap.

Nicole purses her lips because this is exactly what she was afraid of.

 

_Waverly thinks I don't trust her._

_Again._

 

"Waves…"

"I'm sure running around with me and all my family's crazy baggage isn't helping, either."

"Hey…" Nicole reaches for Waverly's hand. "This has nothing to do with you. Don't you ever think that I resent you for that, okay? Being with you means being with all your flaws and weird family shit. I love you, demons and all." She gives Waverly's hand a reassuring squeeze. "And you've had…a lot going on lately, too, Waves, with sending Alice away and Wynonna coming back and trying to keep her on track and--"

"But wouldn't it just be better if we helped each other through our stuff instead of just trying to hide it and protect the other person?"

Nicole sees the last few months flash through Waverly's eyes.

 

_Getting un-deputized. The DNA results. Shae. Alice. Mictian._

_Too many secrets._

 

"Yeah. You're right."

Waverly tucks a lock of hair behind Nicole's ear, her hand lingering against Nicole's cheek. "Is there anything else you want to talk about?"

She considers Waverly for a moment. She feels lighter, her chest not as constricted. Her eyelids even feel a little heavy.

But she thinks about crawling into bed and spending the rest of the night unable to sleep.

Because in her mind, there's still the Widow barging into her house, that she's pushing Waverly too far or too hard, that she made some awful miscalculation and couldn't get baby Alice Michelle to safety.

 

_She worries that if she starts, she won't be able to stop._

 

"Just…not tonight. Okay?"

As the words escape her and float into the space between them, she sees a glimmer of something in Waverly's eyes.

 

_I don't know if you're telling me everything. You can tell me everything. But I'll wait._

_Until you're ready._

_Or it might just be the dark._

 

"Okay." Waverly nods. "Is there anything I can do, like, right now?"

 

_(There's still more to tell, more nightmares to vanquish._

_Because Waverly still wants to help. Her heart is too big to let others wallow in their own pain._

_It's one of Nicole's favorite things about her.)_

 

Nicole rests her head against the back of the couch. She reaches for one of Waverly's hands. She rubs her thumb over the back of her hand. "For tonight…can you just stay down here with me?"

Waverly smiles. "Yeah. Of course."

Nicole shifts her position so she can stretch her legs the length of the couch. Waverly settles in beside her. She drapes the quilt over both of them--though Nicole knows once Waverly's out she'll wrestle the blanket away from her. Nicole rests her cheek on the crown of Waverly's head, her arm wrapping around Waverly's shoulders.

 

_With storms raging on the sea, clutching for dear life to the sides of her flimsy lifeboat, she's grateful for her lighthouse, her harbor, her anchor._

 

She takes a leap.

She closes her eyes.

And she sleeps.

* * *

Everybody faces different monsters.

 

As usual, the reprieve is brief.

Nicole still sits up long after Waverly's breathing slows and evens, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, because the monsters are still under the bed, thoughts surging chaotically through every lobe and yelling so loud, she wonders how it hasn't woken Waverly.

She doesn't know if she'll get back to sleep tonight. Or tomorrow night. Or the night after. She doesn't know when or if the nightmares will end.

It might take more than one night, more than one cup of tea.

Maybe it's a lifetime thing.

A lifetime of talking through nightmares--real and imaginary, past traumas and future worries--of not always trying to vanquish the monsters immediately, but being willing to see another's monsters.

There's a comfort in knowing that someone else can see your monsters.

 

_Waverly sees her monsters._

_And she is not afraid._

**Author's Note:**

> This is a result of @alesford a.k.a Newt giving me a prompt to write when I should have been packing up my apartment ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Given three choices, of course I chose the angsty one.
> 
> This was a hard one to write. It became oddly...personal
> 
> Thanks to Newt for cheering me on and helping bounce ideas around and just being a top-shelf beta and human, as always.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with this one <3
> 
>  
> 
> You can yell at me on Twitter (@Teachearp_) or tumblr (@emeraldcitynerdfighter).


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